Sleuth. Cook. Ottoman. Lover. Have you met Yashim yet? It's Istanbul in 1839, and as the new sultan installs his harem in the palace, the intrepid investigator Yashim is set adrift on the swirling currents of loyalty and betrayal. The dramatic treachery of Fevzi Ahmet, the admiral of the fleet, brings Yashim up against the one man he has ever hated…the only man he has ever feared. Drawn ever deeper into the closed and mysterious world of the Sultan's harem, Yashim must search for a secret that could save a life or destroy an empire. An Evil Eye is a heart-pounding mystery of exotic Istanbul and a riveting journey into a veiled realm. “When you read a historical mystery by Jason Goodwin, you take a magic-carpet ride to the most exotic place on earth.” ― Marilyn Stasio, The New York Times Book Review “Goodwin is an author of many strengths…[and his books] just keep getting better….The complicated plot that unfolds is deftly controlled throughout….Goodwin's prose is sharp and surprising.” ― The Washington Post “Exotic…An elegant meditation on the Ottoman psyche. Goodwin is as concerned with capturing the sights, sounds, and recipes as he is with the murders.” ― Financial Times (London) “Goodwin continues to create historical mysteries with an A-quality plot, excellent historical detail, and a strong sense of place….He is still at the top of his game.” ― Booklist “A great addition to a superb series.” ― The Globe and Mail (London) “In Yashim's investigations the stakes are high indeed….The bare outlines are enlivened by Goodwin's skillful use of color and detail, especially Yashim's recipes, which set the reader drooling. As a historian, Goodwin is scrupulous.” ― The Independent (London) JASON GOODWIN is the Edgar Award–winning author of the Investigator Yashim series. The first five books― The Janissary Tree , The Snake Stone , The Bellini Card , An Evil Eye , and The Baklava Club ―have been published to international acclaim, alongside Yashim Cooks Istanbul , a cookbook of Ottoman Turkish recipes inspired by the series. Goodwin studied Byzantine history at Cambridge and is the author of Lords of the Horizons: A History of the Ottoman Empire , among other award-winning nonfiction. He lives with his wife and children in England. An Evil Eye A Novel By Jason Goodwin Picador Copyright © 2012 Jason Goodwin All right reserved. ISBN: 9781250002433   Istanbul, 1836 T HE yali is made of wood silvered by the sun, dry as tinder. As evening falls, the timbers begin to cool. Beams settle; boards contract. Cracks ease around the window frames, whose latticed glass flames orange with the setting sun. The pasha’s two-oared caïque skims like a cormorant up the Bosphorus toward it, away from Istanbul. He leans into the cushions, his back to the setting sun, and lets his mind rove idly across the water, over the surface of his ambitions and his desires. He checks himself. He is not a superstitious man, but praise and pride attract the evil eye; certain thoughts are better left unframed. Almost guiltily, he turns his head. The yali stands so beautifully at the water’s edge, looking out across the Bosphorus to the hills of Asia beyond. The evening meal has been taken, and he imagines the murmur of voices as his household prepares for sleep. He can almost hear the yali settling, its old bones composing themselves for the night, wooden joints creaking and crackling in the dusk. He turns his head—and puts out a hand, as if it were in his power to stop what is about to happen. As if he could fit the house in his own palm, and keep it safe. Between his outstretched fingers, the yali is ablaze. It burns so beautifully, as if a wild spirit were dashing through the rooms. A window explodes, and against the evening sky the sparks fly up like shooting stars. Galaxies twist from the staircase; suns blaze in every room. The pasha screams. The rowers glance back. They miss a stroke. Over the crash of falling timber and the snapping of the flames, the pasha hears screams from the harem apartments, upstairs. When the caïque touches the marble stairs, the pasha flings himself onto shore. His mouth is open, sweat rolling down his face. He races from one end of the burning house to the other, moaning. He feels the heat on his face. He can no longer hear the screams. But he hears, instead, someone call his name. “Fevzi Pasha! Pasha!” Two arms thrust a bundle from a window. The pasha reaches up. The roof sags, dropping a sudden flurry of flaming shingles, which spin to the ground. The pasha leaps back. The figure at the window is gone. The window is gone. The flames are driving a firestorm: the pasha feels the wind snatch at his cloak, drawing him back toward the yali . He cradles the bundle to his chest and stumbles away. The gate bursts open, and a crowd of men surges in with buckets, hooks, ladders. But it is far too late. As the men run by, the pasha hears timbers break and the sky is lit up.